


Cannibal Fodder

by camijan



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Based on a Creepypasta, Creepy Fluff, Creepypasta, Creepypasta romance? really? i don't know how to work this site help, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Horror, M/M, Other, Serial Killers, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Stalker, Thriller, creepypasta romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27988845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camijan/pseuds/camijan
Summary: Life is alright. Working at a flower shop, barely making rent, being a social recluse. Life is just... alright. Until it's not. A stalker enters your perfectly contained world and throws it into ruin, and suddenly- life is no longer alright.A fire ignites in you, and you're willing to do anything to return to your 'alright' life.Or are you?
Relationships: Eyeless Jack/Reader, Eyeless Jack/You, Jeffrey Woods | Jeff the Killer/Reader, Tobias Erin "Toby" Rogers|Ticci Toby/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	1. [1] Late Summer Night

Music filled the house, smothering any anxiety and discomfort with its presence. Fingertips danced among aged ivory keys, singing notes that were a touch off-key, weathered by lack of care. It wasn’t the most appropriate time to perform, but you managed. Your audience was nothing short of empty, lackluster. But, that's how you preferred it. Maybe a bird paused to chirp in-between notes, maybe a deer stopped in the thicket to determine the song a threat.

Maybe a figure stood still, silent, deep in the forest to appreciate the melody. 

That idea humored you the most. An idea in which a single, conscious being became your audience. Of course, it was just a thought, a sputter of the human imagination. After all, it’s difficult to imagine someone else in a place so remote. Your fingertips stopped the music, leaving nothing but the howling wind to sing alone. The late summer weather flooded the abandoned home with humidity and warmth, a perfect place for sickness and mold to breed.

Though, that was a concern you took with a grain of salt. Floorboards creak and groan as you stood from the piano’s wooden chair, surprised it hadn’t broken apart from the years of abuse and neglect. Finally, you leave the old home, forced to return to regular life, to routine. The house sat quietly in the clearing as you began to walk away, unaware of the figure taking note of your every move in the background. 

The lush forest welcomed you with open arms as you traveled back home, following the same trail you had made months prior. The house was a safe haven of yours, away from the chaos of daily life. As you trek through the trail, the forest thins, its embrace of heavy greenery dwindling into concrete and yellow-hued streetlamps. Eyes to the ground, you walk. 

Your life was… mundane at best. Difficult at worst. Working at a flower shop, counting pennies, very few friends, a rough relationship with your parents. Maybe a different path would have taken you somewhere more successful, but that didn’t matter now. Dwelling on such things left a sour taste in your mouth. The night was still young, better to not ruin it now.

For several blocks, all you do is walk. The journey to the forest is a long one, and the journey back is even worse. A little more bitter than the prior. But in between your rambling thoughts, a presence grew in the back of your mind. A feeling that weighed down your stomach and knees, raising the hairs on the nape of your neck. Human instinct.

Someone is watching you.

Paranoia sets in and your head whips back, craning to see anyone-  _ anything _ \- but there is no one. The street lamps glow brighter below the darkening sky, highlighting no one underneath. Gentle footsteps become quick-footed taps, slowly rising into a jog. Albeit the town was small and far from vast, it all felt foreign as you began to run to your apartment. Adrenaline pumped in your veins as you met the small apartment complex, desperately fumbling with your keys as you managed to enter, door slamming shut behind your back. Labored breaths escaped you as you slid down the door, landing firmly on your rear. Paranoia still in effect, your hand raises to lock the doorknob above your head. 

A pair of footsteps echo from the hallway, and the worst comes to mind as you lean back into the door, your only escape. Then- “Hey.”

“Fuck! Shit!” You scramble to your feet, faux bravery on your face melting away at the familiar sight. Your roommate.

“ _ Heeeey. _ ” Her hands raise defensively at your frightened stance, a humored grin on her lips. “Are ya good? You look like you got the shit scared outta you.” A thick southern accent laced her words, one that matched her long auburn curls and tawny freckles. “I’m tellin’ you- you gotta invest in one of ‘em pepper spray things- you look scared shitless!”

For a moment, you’re stunned silent, silent enough for Hayley to understand the seriousness of the situation. Hayley, since you first met her, was a very ‘momma bear’-esque figure. Her southern hospitality and fiery personality did a lot to add to that effect. Her heels clicked against hardwood flooring, fast-paced as she eyed you up and down, worry lines creasing her young forehead.

“What was it? Stalker ex- old creepy man- I’ll lend you a pistol to keep on you- want me to-” “I’m fine- _really-_ I was just… paranoid.” The worry lines don’t disappear as she steps back, her sling held tightly in her hands. “You know I’mma headin’ out tonight, but if you’re a lil nervous, I can stand by- do a lil rain-check.”

You shake your head, even though the anxiety still bubbled inside of you, “I’m alright- really. Just… watched one too many horror movies.” A white lie slips through your lips, but it convinces Hayley. “Well _shit_ , honey you outta not worry me like that- I was sure some creep had tailed you down here with the way you looked.” A bit of relief washed over her, apparent by the disappearing wrinkles. 

Hayley pats your head affectionately, being on the taller side. “There’s a bit of supper on the table, ain’t gotta pay me back or nuthin’. It’s a bit of a pizza leftover, but I gotta head out now honey.” You nod, smiling a bit at her comforting presence before it’s all too soon gone. Fingers fiddle with the lock until it’s sealed tight.

The silence inside the apartment is near-deafening. You sat at the couch shared between you and Hayley, turning on the TV to a nonsensical show which failed to keep your mind blank. Something was off.  _ ‘It’s just the anxiety telling you that.’  _ Rationalizing everything did little to calm your nerves. It was nothing, you were simply overthinking. Overthinking scenarios that couldn’t possibly happen to you, you weren’t the type to get into messes such as stalkers or watchers or creeps.

The wind rustles gently outside, a summer breeze only heard, not felt. For a moment, your anxiety dwindles, and the TV is nothing but white noise. The stars must look lovely tonight. You turn towards the window, and your stomach sinks.

The rustling was not a summer’s breeze.

It was a masked figure whose eyes bore into your soul.


	2. [2] [Fight] or Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight or flight response is an automatic physiological reaction to an event that is perceived as stressful or frightening.  
> This prepares you to fight or flee.
> 
> When an intruder enters your home, you are cornered.  
> Backed into a wall.  
> Nowhere to go.
> 
> So, you do what cornered animals do best.

A mask stared back at you, emotionless, cold. Navy blue in color, a strange liquid seeped from the eye sockets, dripping endlessly down its face. One’s first reaction would possibly be to scream or cry out, but for a few nerve-wracking moments, you simply stared back. Everything stood still, the TV now drowned out by the sound of your own heartbeat. And then, the doorknob clicked.

It picked the lock. 

Without another thought, you raced to the kitchen, the sound of the door creaking wide open fueling your adrenaline. _‘This can’t be happening.’_ Your hands reach for the phone, dialing emergency service as your head whips towards the door. It’s coming closer. The line rings, and the emergency service operator greets you through the phone. “...what’s your emergency?”

“There- There’s someone in my house! It’s- He’s right here, please-!” Before you knew it, the figure lunged at you. Clearly male, tall in stature, wearing a navy hoodie just a size too large. Details caught your eye as he closed the gap between you and him. Within seconds, he was close enough to _smell_. He smelled of grass, cedar, and iron. Iron. _Blood_. He was going to kill you.

“He’s gonna fuckin’ kill me!” You cried out to the emergency operator as your back pressed against the kitchen counter, trying to get as far away from him as you possibly could. But how much further could you get? You’re cornered, scared, and by all accounts, you should have pissed yourself by now. A cornered animal. In his eyes, that’s all you were; another cornered animal who would die just as easy as they lived. 

That was the fatal flaw. You didn’t live easy. You worked at a run-down flower shop, you could barely pay rent, you fought day and night to just survive in this world. No higher education, no games, nothing. Even then, throughout your mundane life, you had the desire to live. Without thought, you gripped a handle from the knife block. Before you know it, blows are exchanged and blood is splattered.

Both yours and your attacker’s. If you can call it blood. He had swung first, eager to have his kill- but you swung harder. A messy incision ripped up your throat, feathering towards your jawline as you ducked down a little too slowly. Your movement ruined his easy kill, making him miss all vital arteries. Nothing but luck saved your life. As you lunge, the phone is dropped, and a knife is plunged into his stomach. You could even hear him choke out, a growl of pain muffled behind his mask.

The intruder kicks you in the stomach as he stumbles back, slamming your back to the counter, hands parted from the handle of your cheap kitchen knife. The force leaves you near-breathless, but you still want to fight- no- you _need_ to fight. You grab another handle, unsheathing a smaller knife from the block. He shouldn’t be standing right now. And neither should you. Red blood soaked into your clothes, ruining cotton and kitchen tiles.

“Back off, fucker!” Bravery lines your voice, but your shaking hands oppose it. “I mean it- I’ll- I’ll hurt you again!” You fumble over words and not-so-empty threats, eyes nearly wild and feral with the need to survive. It was almost calming for you, _almost_. You held a source of power against him, you refused to lay down and die. It almost felt good. It almost felt good to plunge a knife into your intruder, to rise up and fight back.

Those thoughts quickly dissipated as he took a step forward. A black substance dripped from the supposedly lethal wound, a knife that large and that deep into your stomach should definitely hinder anybody. He was nearly fine. _It_ was nearly fine. No human can take a wound like that so lightly. But _it_ did. 

He lunged again, and you were ready to strike. The knife in your hands trembled as you flinched, but he passed right by you. A crash was heard, and glass shattered over the bloodied kitchen floor. He had jumped out of the window. You drop the knife and rush to have one last view of your failed murderer, but he was long gone. The black, tar-like substance splattered as he made his not-so-grand escape, a few droplets landing on your face.

Lights flashed from the entrance, a bold red and blue. The sirens rang through your ears, echoing as a new figure emerged from the door. A man in blue, gun aimed at your head. “ **Get on the ground!** ” Words fell empty from his mouth, not registering, not clicking in your mind. _‘There’s a lot of blood.’_ Black spots dotted your vision, encompassing everything. _‘This will be a pain to clean.’_

Those were your last cohesive thoughts as the world turned dark.

When you came to, the world was white. ‘ _Am I dead?_ ’ Of course, anyone would have assumed that. Bright light flooded your vision, and the world felt empty around you. Your suspicions were quickly destroyed as a voice entered your ears. “What in the goddamn fuckin’ hell happened?” Those aren’t exactly the words of an angel.

Your eyes focus, and realization begins to set in. You’re in a hospital bed and your neck hurts like hell. Instinctively, you raise your hand to the wound. Fingers find stitches and a hiss of pain leaves your lips. “Well, honey? You there? Speak up!” Hayley’s voice echoed through your mind, still disoriented. “Whuh… What the fuck..” Running a hand through your hair, you manage to sit up, Hayley’s eyes meeting yours.

“I uh… someone… someone broke into the apartment.” You swallowed hard, everything coming back to you. Dropping your gaze, you found your bloodied hands, stained both red and black. Curtains shuffle to the side and you lift your head, a doctor and police officer side by side. The sight of the officer makes you grimace, reminded that he was behind the gun.

“So, you’re the one who called the emergency, right?” The officer held little remorse in his tone, if any at all, as he crossed his arms, examining you up and down. “Yes, officer.” The tension in the room swelled as his lips pursed, seemingly unamused with it all. “Well, there’s not a lot we can do, there was no fingerprints or evidence left by your supposed intruder, besides that disgusting black substance.” His words made your blood boil. “‘Supposed’? I watched him break my lock open and swing at me! It’s not supposed- someone came into my apartment and attacked me!” 

As you strained to yell, the pain in your neck began to sting, forcing you to stop. “Sorry kid, but we’re bustin’ our asses out here. We ain’t got time for an intruder that _supposedly_ drips tar everywhere.” The officer scoffed at you, both of you glaring daggers into the other. Deep inside, you knew the officer was half-right. A string of murders had begun to pop up around town, between neighboring cities and counties. Both the emergency service and the investigative team had their hands full.

That didn’t stop you from becoming bitter. Once Officer Lacy- as you had seen on his nametag- left, you couldn’t stop glaring at the entryway. Hayley placed a hand on your shoulder, a sympathetic look in her hazel eyes. “Honey, I hope like hell you got health insurance.”

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone reading this- I'm literally spiraling  
> I'm failing the semester but quarantine really got me writing  
> CREEPYPASTA  
> fanfiction  
> like bruh I'm back in middle school I guess


End file.
